


dearest apollo

by scrhaiser



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrhaiser/pseuds/scrhaiser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wounds need tending and Angie will not let Peggy's go unhealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dearest apollo

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from tumblr: angie taking care of an injured peggy

“I’m home,” Angie calls out into the mansion, looking forward to sharing a cup of tea. Her voice bounces back and forth across the walls as she closes the back door behind her and flips the lock.

“I’m upstairs,” Peggy calls back, several beats too late.

“Are you okay?” Angie returns, setting her purse on the table. There is no kettle on the stove, no tea or those little crackers that Angie likes on the table.

She doesn’t respond. “Peggy?” Angie yells, beginning the ascent to the second floor.

“I’m fine!” Peggy yells back.

“You don’t sound fine, English!” She arrives at the Peggy’s bedroom and tries the knob. It’s locked. “Open up!”

“It’s nothing,” Peggy says.

“Just let me in,” she says, leaning against the door frame. “Peggy, please let me in. I’m worried.”

“It’s nothing,” Peggy repeats. “I’m fine.”

Angie raps sharply on the door with her fist. “Open this goddamn door, Margaret Carter. Or so help me God, I’m coming through the window.”

Peggy heaves a very put-upon sigh, but Angie hears her come to the door and unlock it. “I didn’t want you to see this,” she says, turning away from the open door. “I wanted to keep… all of my work away from you.”

Angie has to admit: it’s ugly. A large purple bruise blooms across Peggy’s right cheekbone; there’s a jagged sharp tear in her nice slate-gray pants; her knuckles are bloody with broken skin and she holds her hands curled like hollow-boned-birds. “I’m your friend,” she says, taking cloth strips out of the medical box lying open on the dresser. “And friends take care of friends.”

Peggy sits on the bed. “This is different, Angie.”

“It is,” she agrees, pulling out scissors and a soft cream colored towel and going to the bathroom for a cup of water. She drags a chair next to the bed and sets her supplies on the floor. “Let me see that hand.”

Reluctantly, Peggy gives it to her.

“When I was seven,” Angie begins, wetting the towel and cleaning the scraped knuckles. “My great uncle was stabbed in a back alley by three large men with knives. The afternoon after the funeral, six of my cousins took guns and found those three men.” She begins rolling a soft cloth bandage around Peggy’s hand. “After that, my mother and father move three blocks down and two blocks over from my grandmother’s house. Close enough for Sunday dinner, they said, but not close enough for us to learn how to shoot craps. Which we learned anyway, but, the point is-” she carefully does not look Peggy in the eyes as she says this, “-friends help friends, and I want to help you. This isn’t new to me and it - nor you - does not scare me. I will help you, Margaret Carter, whether you like it or not.” She looks up. “Let me see your cheek,” she says, pulling out a little squeeze tube of salve.

“Angie-” Peggy begins.

She cuts her off. “Sorry, English. You’re stuck with me: either you let me help you or I move out.”

“Angela, thank you,” Peggy says, gently touching her chin. Angie can’t quite breathe, unable to do anything except stare into Peggy’s warm eyes. Peggy leans forward and softly presses her lips against Angie’s. “I am lucky to have you as a friend,” she says as she draws back. She releases Angie’s chin.

Angie squeezes some of the salve onto her finger. “I’m going to finish this,” she says, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “And then you’re going to do that again.”

Peggy smiles back. “It would be my pleasure.”


End file.
